


To The Pain

by Kairyn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Blind Thranduil, Characters Do Dark Things, Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm trying to make you cry, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Other, Past Relationship(s), Sorry Not Sorry, Timeline What Timeline, eventually, happy ending not guaranteed, it's messy, past mistakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: When people are hurt they tend to lash out. They do things to spread the hurt to others. Then those they hurt lash out themselves. The cycle spirals out from there. Things can't always be salvaged. But maybe, just maybe, a few things can.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oookay, so, usually I don't write much Thorindul. I'll read it and don't have much against it in general I just can't see it working unless it's AU (which this is). But I came across a collection of prompts in the Hobbit Kink Meme that made me think of this story so I sort of took bits and pieces of them and came up with this. The Mpreg I tagged was in several of the prompts and I still haven't quite worked it out yet... so we'll just agree to suspend thinking about that alright? Okay. Sweet. On with my totally not healthy desire to torment people.

The moonlight was silvery as it spilled in through the window and washed over the polished stone floor. There was a slight breeze teasing at the curtains of the open doorway that led to a spacious balcony. A large bed made with crisp white linens sat upon a raised dais. The pale green and golden embroidered coverlet was pulled back since the night was still plenty warm for the occupant of the bed to not need it. His long hair was spread out upon the many pillows and shimmered a blonde nearly white. “You’re staring at me,” the occupant of the bed stated without actually opening his eyes.

There was a bit of a grunt from near the balcony. “Am I not allowed to do that, mighty Elvenking?”

King Thranduil made a thoughtful noise, again without moving even a fraction. He was quite comfortable where he was for the moment and saw no reason to change that. “I’ll permit it, but I’d rather thought I’d worn you out for the evening.”

The somewhat haughty reply got a snort somewhere between amusement and derision. “As fine as your arse is, it’ll take more than just that to wear me out, Thranduil.” The speaker leaned forward in his chair to put the wine he had been drinking down on a side table. “After all, you didn’t even fuck me this time,” he continued as he got up and crossed the room.

He saw the elf’s lip twitch ever so slightly. “You have to ride home tomorrow. I was being kind. But, if you’d rather, I can surely muster the effort to make your saddle quite uncomfortable.”

The bed dipped down and finally Thranduil turned over more fully. “I wouldn’t want to burden your majesty,” his current bed partner said with no trace of sincerity or respect at all. 

“Well then, I suppose I shall leave you without your fulfillment,” he replied as he felt a warm and calloused hand brush his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered some at the touch that he rarely indulged in. And then he felt those thick fingers brush over the twisted flesh of his scars. He reached up to stop the exploring fingers and pulled his head away. “Enough of that, Thorin.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Thorin said with a scowl. Just like that, the spell to hide the elf’s damaged face and eyes slid back in place. He was perfect and flawless again. He was beautiful either way and it annoyed Thorin greatly that Thranduil was so unusually shy about it. He understood that elves didn’t scar all that easily and the fact that Thranduil’s scars were extensive and had stolen his sight was traumatic, but it shouldn’t matter in the first place. Thranduil didn’t allow the scars to interfere with his ability to rule. Nor did they seem to interfere with any of the other things Thranduil could do.

Thranduil sighed before turning his head back and guiding Thorin’s fingers to his lips. The dwarf prince’s eyes widened as the fey creature in front of him slowly nibbled on the thick pads of his fingers, gently tugging and teasing with his straight teeth and nimble tongue until two of the digits were fully enclosed in the elf’s hot, wet, terribly wicked, beautiful mouth. “That’s cheating,” he said, his voice somewhat strangled. His cock jumped as Thranduil treated his fingers to a slow and very teasing mimicry of what that devilish mouth had done several hours ago to a different piece of Thorin’s anatomy.

Thranduil didn’t seem to care how much he was ‘cheating’ and simply dragged his lips back along Thorin’s fingers before sucking them in again. Thorin groaned and pulled the far too lucky digits away to replace them with his mouth. He simply could not take the tease of a king’s games right now. 

Their lips and tongues clashed instantly in a heated twisted wrestling match all their own. Thranduil’s arm wrapped tight around the young dwarf’s head, refusing to relinquish his grip. Thorin hardly minded being forced to continue the kiss and teased at the elf’s perfect and perfectly annoying lips even as he parted those pale thighs.

Earlier in the evening they had taken their time in careful lovemaking. This however was not like that. Thorin’s teeth tugged at Thranduil’s lips even as his two slickened fingers found their way inside of the ageless beauty of a King. Thranduil gasped and arched though his fingers didn’t relent their grip in the least. Thorin smirked before dragging his mouth down the elf’s slender neck to bite and suck and scrape along the flawlessly pale skin he found there.

Gasps and moans from Thranduil went straight through Thorin’s body to settle in his already very aching cock. His beard scratched across Thranduil’s bare chest and turned his nipples into hard pebbles that begged for Thorin’s attentions. A stream of elvish escaped almost breathlessly as Thorin’s fingers plunged and twisted.

The dwarven prince smirked and bit at the soft skin in front of him yet again before hiking Thranduil’s legs up. He didn’t wait for more than a moment before angling his hips and pushing forward. A strangled moan escaped along with a cry as Thorin entered. He couldn’t believe that such a reserved cool-headed elf like Thranduil was so _hot_. It was like a furnace wrapped with iron tightness around his cock. Even with Thorin having been inside his lover earlier. “Mahal! So good,” he managed to grind out behind his teeth as he began to move.

Thranduil arched and grasped at both his bedding and his lover to try and keep himself from breaking apart. Thorin was relentless -almost desperate- in his movements. The dwarf prince growled against Thranduil’s soft skin even as he drew pleasured gasps and cries with every thrust. He had meant to set a rougher pace as payment for the teasing but soon both of them were utterly lost in the quickly building pleasure of it. Thorin’s wide hands grasped Thranduil’s hips tightly as the friction threatened to burn them both alive in utter pleasure bordering on a delicious agony. And still Thorin pulled the elf’s slender body closer, trying to get as deep inside his lover as possible.

The sound of flesh on flesh was loud even as Thranduil’s cries grew more and more desperate. He was so very close it hurt and his fingers dug into Thorin’s sweaty back in an effort to hold on. Thorin hissed at the slight sting but that only served to push him to pound his lover all the harder. He couldn’t understand a word Thranduil was gasping but it sounded very close to begging and that set Thorin’s need to an all time high. Some possessive _need_ made him want to ensure he got so firmly entrenched that Thranduil would never get him out. Would never forget him. No matter how much time had passed in his eternal life. 

Thranduil’s entire body went tight as a bowstring before he cried out Thorin’s name and spilled himself between them. Thorin had no hope of lasting with how incredibly close he himself was. His vision seemed to fail when his orgasm ripped through him. Still he managed to continue moving despite the mind numbing pleasure to draw it out with several more powerful moves of his hips.

The pair of lovers had to spend several minutes catching their breath after such a frenzied joining. “What… what got into you?” Thranduil managed to ask.

“You teased me,” Thorin growled as he let his body slowly cool down without bothering to move just yet.

“I’ve teased you worse before,” The Elfking pointed out with some amusement.

Thorin grunted some. That was certainly true. He wasn’t entirely sure what had brought such a need over him but he wasn’t regretting it. “Maybe I just wanted to fuck your brains out,” he muttered against Thranduil’s chest. “You saying you didn’t like it?”

“I don’t believe I said that at all.”

They laid there in each other’s arms for a while until Thorin slowly pulled free and rolled over, staining Thranduil’s nice expensive sheets even more. Thorin looked at his lover. Though the elf had his eyes closed, Thorin somehow knew he wasn’t really asleep. “Why do you do this with me?” he asked. It had been a question in his mind for a while now but for some reason tonight he’d finally decided he should ask.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “It’s your silly tradition, Prince Thorin.”

Thorin snorted, not believing that excuse for a second. Though, yes, the very ancient and never used anymore tradition of sex to confirm alliances was Dwarvish, he wasn’t so foolish as to think Thranduil had really bought that excuse from the beginning. For one thing, it was such an old practice it was hardly even known to other Dwarves anymore. For another, even if it _were_ to still be widely used, it was never done with non-dwarves. Still, if Thranduil wasn’t going to voice his real reasons Thorin certainly wouldn’t be able to make him. The elf was terribly intractable after all (And Thorin most assuredly was not, he insisted to himself).

He would have never believed that two years ago, when he’d been foolish enough to blurt out the idea to the Elfking, he’d never thought Thranduil would _actually_ accept. And indeed, the elf had seemed more amused than interested at the time. Thorin wasn’t even sure why he’d broached the subject other than the fact that it had been his first mission without his Grandfather or Father so he was somewhat bumbling and -despite everything- Thranduil was, undeniably, gorgeous. He’d just blurted out his desires and then had to scramble to cover and the ancient ceremony for reaching accords had somehow sprung to his mind.

And yet, Thranduil obviously had been somewhat intrigued since the king had shown up that night and proceeded to give Thorin what he wanted. Sure, Thorin hadn’t thought _he’d_ be the one with the sore backside the next morning, but he’d greatly enjoyed it all the same.

“How are things in your Kingdom, Thorin?” Thranduil asked absently as his fingers tangled in the dwarf’s damp hair.

“Mm, the same, I suppose. Father’s always off doing some errand or another with the other Kingdoms and Grandfather’s always so busy I hardly ever see him lately,” Thorin replied, glossing over some of his concerns related to that. “But Dis is pregnant again.”

“Oh? Give her my congratulations then,” Thranduil replied, still barely moving more than it took to play with the locks of dwarven hair beside him. “It hasn’t been too long since her first son has it?” Though Thranduil had met the Princess Dis and her quickly growing little family he had far more interaction with Thorin, whom had taken over almost all contact with the Woodland Realm for Erebor for rather obvious reasons.

Thorin shook his head even as he closed his eyes and got comfortable wrapped around his older lover. “Not too long for Dwarves. Fili will just be turning five by the time his little brother or sister comes around, which isn’t too unusual. Fili’s already very excited.”

“I’m sure,” Thranduil murmured.

“What about your Kingdom?”

“Mm, my Kingdom changes very slowly, you know. There is hardly much to say.”

“Is Legolas still scowling every time my name is brought up?”

Thranduil smiled some. “He is just protective of me.”

“It must be hard to accept that his father has someone other than his mother in his bed,” Thorin muttered. “I guess that’s understandable.”

The Elf hummed his agreement even as Thorin nuzzled closer. His hands weren’t still and were instead moving over Thranduil’s side in a constant but teasing motion. Thranduil’s eyebrow went up. “My, what has gotten into you tonight? Are you trying to set some sort of record.” 

Thorin chuckled, “I can’t help it if being with you is addicting. It’s all your fault for feeling so amazing.”

“Oh, I see. My fault. It couldn’t possibly be that you’re just a lusty little thing now could it?”

Thranduil felt Thorin’s grin against the skin of his neck. “Well, maybe,” the dwarven prince conceded before moving to straddle the elf again. “But that’s not such a bad thing…”

* * *

The King of the Greenwood and the Prince of Erebor continued their liaison even as the days grew darker. Slowly but surely things turned sour as Thror’s mind was twisted and trapped. Months passed with unease until, suddenly, tragedy ripped through the land in the form of dragon fire. Dale burned. Erebor crumbled. Dwarves fled. And the Elves… the Elves turned away.

Thorin burned with rage even fiercer than the fires of Smaug. 

How dare he? How could he? How could he do nothing!? Did it mean nothing to him at all? His lover could just stand there and do nothing while they burned?! How had he ever thought any good of such a heartless snake?

Thorin’s rage and pain found a target. He knew how to hurt Thranduil just as badly as Thorin had been hurt. He would not allow the callous harlot to walk away from this betrayal unscathed. He would not! And so he aimed his anger like a scorching arrow with the sole purpose of wounding. He aimed carefully with little thought to what he was truly doing.

He aimed.

He was merciless.

He wounded.

He was not surprised when, after, the elves did not bring aid. Not surprised, but still furious. The other dwarves cursed Thranduil for not sending supplies or helping shelter them. For betraying them even after the dragon. Thorin told no one what he did in his anger. He didn’t think it necessary. Thranduil had deserved to suffer after forcing their people to fight a dragon without aid. He put it out of his mind and turned his focus to his people. They were now homeless and hopeless. They needed him.

In the halls of the Elvenking, Thranduil shattered from the pain and then froze like a glacier. And he cursed dwarves. Especially Thorin soon-to-be-called-Oakenshield. 

And the days moved on, slowly yet surely, until a wizard with a big grey hat and beard leaves a mark on a round green door, wedged under a hill.


	2. Thorin's Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit more set up but I felt it somewhat necessary. Bilbo will actually have a role next chapter. And then sparks will really start to fly.
> 
> I'm thinking this is going to most likely become an Alpha/Beta/Omega type story, mostly because that's the way my brain keeps going with the mpreg ideas I have. Still not a hundred percent decided but leaning heavily towards it.

Ered Luin was showing more than just a little age. Though the weathered and worn façade of the buildings and the cracked flagstones were disguised as best they could be there was only so much that could be done. Ered Luin had never been the most impressive dwarvish construction, but it was sturdy and dignified in it’s own way. But time was slowly and surely wearing down even her reserved dignity. Thorin glanced at the candle on his desk (which was slightly lopsided from a collision his nephews had with it when they were trying to escape their mother) and scowled darkly. It was far later than he’d thought and he’d not even come close to finishing his work. As usual. Though he often went off to work in the cities of men he did still have a colony to run, such as it was. And that work built up with a frightening speed.

He hadn’t been back for very long and from the look of the papers over his desk his venture out into the world had not helped much. He’d primarily gone looking for his father despite his advisors telling him it was foolish. He hadn’t found him. Though he had gotten some rumors of possible work in Gondor that might pay a little. Not enough though. Thorin scowled at the numbers on one sheet of paper. Not nearly enough.

Thorin sat back in his chair -causing the old thing to creak and groan- and rested his chin on one hand while he stared at nothing in particular. He’d met the wizard Gandalf in Bree and he was torn about what they’d spoken of. Returning to Erebor, their ancient home and wealthy halls, it was tempting to say the very least. He could still remember the beautiful green marble that laced through the mountain and the good hard rock that it sat on. The rich tapestries that hung in the grand halls and the way the furnaces warmed his very soul seemed a distant dream to him now. His heart twisted and yearned painfully with the very thought of being able to take it back. But, there was still the dragon. Thorin’s face darkened even more as he thought about the fiend. Gandalf said he had a plan to somehow steal the Arkenstone out from under the wyrm, but even still it would be dangerous.

They could scrape by without Erebor and its riches… if they must. But Thorin didn’t want his people, his family, to have to scrape by. And yet, a dragon was not a foe to take on lightly. Even if they stole the Arkenstone without incident and brought an army of dwarves, slaying dragons would likely cost dearly in lives. But to get it all back… To have his dearest nephews not have to worry about food and patched clothes. For his people to have their dignity back. It was too tempting.

A knock on the door startled Thorin out of his thoughts, “Come in.”

He wasn’t terribly surprised to see his sister standing there. Dís looked tired and worn but even that couldn’t hide the noble dignity bred into her bones. She was dressed simply but neatly in a dress that had Durin Blue detailing along the hems and only the slightest fraying at the laces. She had a tray in her hands that had a bowl of stew and a tankard on it. “You missed dinner, Thorin.” She didn’t look surprised as she said it though. 

“Honestly, I hadn’t noticed until now how late it was,” Thorin admitted as his sister put the tray on his desk, covering several reports that were probably really very important. 

“You got home and went straight to your office. Did you even bother to wash the road dust off you?” Dís asked with her arms folded across her chest. 

Thorin rolled his eyes. Just because she had two boys to mother endlessly she seemed to think Thorin needed it too. “Don’t fuss, baby sister,” he replied as he reached for his ale. “These matters here couldn’t wait for long. How are the boys?”

“They had been looking forward to eating with you again, but I’ll just send them along in the morning to have breakfast with you instead,” she answered in the sweetest voice possible. Thorin only just managed to suppress a groan. That meant a very early morning indeed.

“You are a cruel, cruel, dwarrowdam, Dís,” he said.

“It’s good for you.” She took a seat on the other side of Thorin’s desk and eyed him carefully. She didn’t have to ask if he’d found their father. He would have gone straight to her when he’d gotten back if he’d found anything. Even if it was just his remains. But still he seemed even more preoccupied than usual. “Something happened,” she guessed shrewdly. “What is it?”

Thorin didn’t answer right away. He should have known that Dís would notice something. Sharp as the finest blade she was, especially after raising Fíli and Kíli who were prone to scheming and trickery. He debated if he should tell her and decided he had no reason not to do so. She didn’t seem too terribly impressed by the idea. In fact, as he explained her face got darker and darker. After he had finished explaining, there were several long moments of heavy silence. Thorin almost wanted to squirm in his seat, but somehow managed to resist. “Are you seriously going to do such a foolish thing?” Her voice was soft even though her eyes were the exact opposite. Hard as blue diamonds they appeared to be.

“I’m seriously considering it,” Thorin answered. “I’d prefer to get the other Kingdoms to help me… but I somehow doubt they will. Perhaps Dáin but even he I can’t say for sure.”

“The boys –my boys- they’ll want to follow you,” she pointed out. Her voice was a bit harsh and Thorin saw the glimmer of moisture that she quickly blinked away.

He nodded and looked down at his now finished dinner. “I know. And Fíli, at least, I would want to go with me. As my heir it would be fitting to have him by my side.”

Dís hissed through her teeth. “You’ll never take Fíli and not Kíli! Even I can’t keep them apart for more than a day or so. They’re too young, Thorin!” Her eyes were wide with near desperation at the very idea of her sons going to face a dragon –the very same dragon that had killed their mother, grandmother, her husband, and countless others they had loved so dearly. “Kíli’s beard hasn’t even come in fully yet!”

“Don’t you think I know that, Dís?” he snapped, a bit harsher than he intended if he were being honest. “I know they are too young! I don’t want them to come to harm, but they are still full grown even if they haven’t filled out fully yet. I can’t keep them from coming.”

“You’re the King!”

“No, I’m not,” Thorin scowled darkly at her until she looked away. “That’s part of the problem. Our Kingdom, our Birthright… was taken. What future can I provide for them here, Dís? I can barely keep us all fed and clothed…”

Dís blinked several times. “You do better than you think…” It was a fairly weak attempt from her, but she was understandably distraught. 

Thorin sighed and got up to go to her side. “The wizard seems to think this plan will work. Should I just do nothing a hope that none of us freeze or starve in the winter?” he asked. “I feel I must do this, Dís. We cannot keep on the way we have been.”

She was silent for several moments. “It’s such a dangerous idea… and so far away from here…”

“They are fine warriors already, Dís. I do not like it either but I will look after them,” Thorin promised. “You know I will do everything in my power to keep them safe. They are the world to me just as they are to you.”

Dís didn’t look any happier. “All three of you… you have to come back.”

Thorin attempted a smile. “If all goes well, we shall be back in Erebor by this time next year, Dís, and we will raise them as they should have been raised from the start. With want for nothing.”

There was a long silence as the two of them sat together in Thorin’s office. “You will have to pass through the Greenwood,” she said so softly Thorin almost missed it. “And I know you’ve heard the rumors that it’s grown worse than it ever was…” It would be moreso for him, she thought though didn’t voice it. She didn’t need to say it aloud. Dís was one of the few people alive who knew the two royals had sleeping together. 

“A pale spider and his accursed forest doesn’t frighten me, Dís,” Thorin said fiercely. “If he causes me delay, he shall regret it.”

Dís nodded a bit but couldn’t help but be apprehensive. Thorin rarely spoke of Thranduil but when he did it was with long festering hatred. Dís wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, mostly because she dared not ask for the full story, but she had her suspicions. Her instincts were telling her if the two of them were ever so close to each other again they would very possibly come to blows. Such was often the case with long held grievances. 

The siblings spoke for a while longer before Dís headed to bed. Thorin stayed up and mulled over the situation longer. He had come to a decision to try to get his homeland back but Dís was right as well. Thranduil’s realm would be best avoided, especially if he brought his nephews, which he couldn’t help but think he would have to do. Going around the forest would be a long and frustrating detour but it might just be worth it. Despite the occasional good dream about his time in the elf’s bed, Thorin had no real desire to ever speak or even see the traitor again. Yes, going around the Greenwood would be the best idea, if they had the time to do so.

But, he still had plenty to do before they ever got to that point. He should still try and talk the other seven kingdoms into helping. Dáin might even surprise him. And he had to get a company together for the journey. And then of course, the wizard had promise to find a burglar capable of the task that was in mind. Yes, there was plenty to do before he had to deal with _that_. He nearly sneered at the very idea of having to deal with his ex-lover and the horrid forest he dwelt in. 

With no real desire to think on it anymore, Thorin pushed the issue far from his mind and instead pulled several pieces of parchment over. He had a meeting to arrange and other _more important_ things to deal with. 

It did not take as long as Thorin thought it would to arrange a meeting of the seven kingdoms. Nor very long to get a company of willing dwarves for this quest. As he feared, Fíli and Kíli would not hear of being left behind nor of being parted. Everyone had tried to talk at least one out of going, but it had been rather reminiscent of talking directly to a stone wall. Dwalin and Balin, of course, had been all too willing to answer Thorin’s call. Glóin and Óin would be helpful, both due to their funds they could donate and Óin’s medical knowledge. The Ur’s had been quite eager to join despite none of them being part of the warrior calling. But then there had been the Ri’s. That had been quite the uneasy situation. While Thorin wanted Nori for his skills at thieving and Dori for his almost legendary strength, little Ori he hadn’t wanted at all to bring along. But, Dori and Nori didn’t want to leave their little brother in Ered Luin alone and would only come if they could take Ori with them. Thorin had, quite unwillingly, agreed to the stipulation. 

It became even more important that Gandalf find that burglar that he was talking about since Thorin was a bit apprehensive about taking an unlucky number of dwarves on an already possibly suicidal quest. He usually didn’t put too much stock in superstition but it never hurt right? Of course, when Gandalf wrote to say he had the perfect person and to come to the Shire of all places, Thorin was a little worried but tried to not think about it too much. He wasn’t all _that_ familiar with Hobbits. Perhaps they had some proclivities Thorin wasn’t aware of.

Thorin tried to imagine what a Hobbit burglar would be like. Surely a bit more world worn and wise than the rest of his soft kind. Maybe he would even know how to protect himself. It would certainly be nice.

Bilbo Baggins was not at all what Thorin had managed to imagine. He had rather hoped that Gandalf would call upon a talented adventurer who was used to hardship and danger. Not a soft, gentle-looking, grocer with a ridiculous sense of… frippery, if Thorin was entirely honest. What were the use of doilies anyway? But, much to Thorin’s great surprise, the Hobbit actually signed the contract and came with them. Well, he’d fainted and refused at first, but he eventually did come. 

But having a Hobbit around was considerably more awkward than Thorin had been expecting. Even Ori, whom was hardly a warrior seemed more capable than Bilbo Baggins. There was just something about the little creature with the curls and big feet and obsession with handkerchiefs that made Thorin feel like he needed to protect him. Thorin had quite enough to be protecting without Gandalf’s little cutesy burglar. That was why he’d made it clear to Gandalf from the beginning that he wouldn’t take responsibility for him.

Of course, that was easier said than done because more than once Thorin found himself glancing back to ensure the Hobbit hadn’t fallen too far behind. Luckily, he had to glance behind to check on his nephews as well, so he could do both at the same time. He’d really rather it if the Hobbit were to go home where he’d be safe and not… well, causing Thorin anxiety. But, it wasn’t as if Bilbo could just turn around and hike back to the Shire. The little fellow was sure to get waylaid by something and end up torn to shreds.

And so, Thorin resigned himself to having to make sure four of his company were kept out of harms way. He knew Fíli and Kíli wouldn’t like to be included in that number but they could, quite frankly, get over it. He would protect his nephews whether they liked it or not. Ori, at least, would be mostly looked after by his brothers. The Hobbit, for all that he seemed to have a clever little mouth on him, would most likely be the biggest liability.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted this chapter to be longer... I really did. But Bilbo just decided 'Nope. That's all I'm willing to share of my thoughts!' And I hate switching voices mid chapter and only do it if I can't help it. So... sorry for the length of this but I promised to try and get a chapter out sometime this week so I threw up my hands in defeat. Hopefully next chapter won't be too short.
> 
> Oh, and if anyone out there is unawares I have a twitter account for my writing now where I post what story I'm working on at any given day. The account is **@BFay_Miller** Feel free to follow! Or PM me asking questions or whatever.

Bilbo was not at all sure what possessed him to go on this… quest. A Quest of all things! Stupid handsome Dwarves with toe curlingly beautiful singing voices. Bilbo’d always had a bit of a weakness for a man with a deep voice. You didn’t find too many Hobbits with them but apparently Dwarves were more inclined. Because, of course, they were. The burglar’s eyes shifted to look at the front of their travelling line again. There he was, looking all regal and beautiful again. Bilbo nearly scoffed at himself. He really needed to pull himself together. He’d already let the Dwarf’s good looks blind him to the fact that there was a dragon at the end of all this.

He entirely blamed his Tookish side for this. They tended to do silly things for attraction too. Although, admittedly, not quite this foolish. Now he had to _look_ at Thorin for days on end. Seeing his pretty self and the lovely figure he cut in that ridiculous coat was just not at all fair. Especially since Thorin didn’t seem to like him much in return.

Thorin kept spouting off little comments about how Bilbo needed to be looked after or kept out of trouble. Even once going so far as to send Fíli and Kíli to fetch him when Bilbo had wandered away from camp. Never mind that Bilbo had wanted a little _privacy_. Staring at Thorin’s backside all day had made that pressingly important for Bilbo to try and secure. Thorin’s nephews, of course, rather ruined that.

Being looked after grated on Bilbo something serious. He may not be a magnificent regal sod like Thorin-bloody-Oakenshield. But he could take care of himself. He may not be an Alpha or anything like Thorin seemed to obviously be, but he was not an idiot to be looked after. He didn’t know how Dwarves did it, but in the Shire, nobody would dare be trying to ‘look after’ him. He was an Omega of the Baggins line. There wasn’t much more responsible or well-respected one could get. Omegas were the only sensible sort really. Alphas tended to let their emotions run away with them and Betas had no interest in running households or really anything at all. Most well-off Hobbit families had prominent Omega strains, and the Bagginses were no exception. 

Of course, being such a wealthy Omega, Bilbo had had more than his fair share of suitors over the years but none had really caught Bilbo’s interest. Even Lobelia had tried her hand to win Bilbo over when they were younger but she was so unpleasantly Alpha that Bilbo had never even considered her for a moment. She’d never really gotten over that, he didn’t think. Alphas, while very nice to look at and fantasize about, tended to set Bilbo’s teeth on edge. Dwarven Alpha’s seemed worse if Thorin was anything to go by. He was so incredibly domineering.

Thorin was quite attractive and made Bilbo’s inner Omega mewl with want but he pushed that all down ruthlessly. He couldn’t possibly entertain the idea seriously. He didn’t know about Dwarves but Hobbits took partners carefully. Bilbo had just about been resigned to picking out a Beta over an Alpha before this quest and then Thorin had to ruin it by being too good at signing. Well, Bilbo could still do that after this, he supposed, if he survived.

Then again, fantasizing never hurt anyone.

Getting away to do the fantasizing seemed to be the major problem. Every time Bilbo thought he’d managed to get far enough away, he’d barely manage to get his hands down his pants before hearing the others calling for him. The whole thing left him a very frustrated Hobbit.

After yet another ruined attempt to relieve his urges, Bilbo was sitting on the other side of the campfire and trying his best to not pout. Being around so many Dwarves was really quite terrible. Most of them seemed to be Alphas if Bilbo’s instincts were right and that made things very difficult. The only ones Bilbo could really stand for extended periods of time were the Ri brothers, Kíli, and Bofur, all of whom he was nearly certain weren’t Alphas. Betas perhaps… maybe an Omega in Ori’s case, but not Alphas.

“You’re quieter than usual today, Mr. Baggins,” Ori said. “Is everything alright?”

Bilbo gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Ori, thank you for asking. I don’t think I’m used to this pony riding thing yet, though.”

“I, for one, am extremely impressed at how well you’re doing, Bilbo,” Gandalf murmured from nearby. Bilbo looked over to see the wizard smoking at the very edges of the campfire’s radius of light.

“Well, thank you,” Bilbo said with a little bit of sass. He wasn’t terribly concerned with impressing Wizards. And besides that, he would have thought Gandalf would have enough faith in him to not be ‘extremely impressed’ in the first place. So much for never doubting him for a second.

He heard muttering off to the side and looked over. Thorin and Balin were crouched over the map and discussing it softly. Bilbo was sorely tempted to go over there and see if they’d found out anything new (he did love maps) but resisted the urge. He tried to not get within a certain distance of exiled Dwarven Kings that made his knees feel like giving out.

So, Bilbo turned his eyes to the rest of the camp just to see what was going on. Bombur was cleaning up (i.e. eating) the last of their dinner while Bofur did the dishes. Bifur looked like he was trying to help but kept stopping to stare at the spoons and bowls in his hands. The brain addled Dwarf was even wearing one of those bowls as a hat.

Óin and Glóin were sitting on their bedrolls and arguing about something or another but they hadn’t raised their voices yet so Bilbo assumed it was the same sort of casual bickering all brothers got into. Dori was leaning close to the fire so that he could use the light to patch up a tear in one of Ori’s gloves. 

Thorin’s impossible nephews were still setting up their bedrolls since they hadn’t done it when they were supposed to hours earlier. Kíli seemed particularly grumbling about the chore but his brother just clocked him lightly upside the head and told him to stop making a fuss. Kíli gave a truly spectacular glare but did as his brother said… under protest, of course.

Bilbo looked around again and did a quick count before realizing they were two Dwarves short. “Where’s Nori and Dwalin?” he asked before he could really consider the question himself.

That got him some attention and the others of the Company looked around as well, but only for a brief second. “They’ll be fine,” Thorin said gruffly. “They can handle themselves.”

_Oh, and I can’t?_ Bilbo thought. He bit his tongue to keep from saying it out loud. Nobody seemed all that worried that Nori and Dwalin were missing from their camp. Not even, strangely enough, Dori who Bilbo had been sure would be frantic at either of his younger brothers being unaccounted for. Bilbo wanted to ask. He really did. But he decided, after a moment’s thought, that he wasn’t going to be the one worrying over them. If the other Dwarves wanted to just blithely ignore their missing numbers then Bilbo would do so as well.

Despite saying he’d just ignore it, Bilbo couldn’t help but glance around for the two Dwarves on occasion. Several hours later, Bilbo finally realized why nobody had seemed worried when Dwalin and Nori came trudging back to the camp. Nori’s normally carefully styled hair was a bit mussed, and Dwalin actually had the slightest smile on his face. Nori muttered some vague goodnight to the others before falling into his bedroll and apparently going right to sleep. Bilbo noticed Dwalin watching the Dwarvish rapscallion do this before going to sit beside Thorin and Balin.

_Oh…_

They had been missing… together. Right. Bilbo was glad he hadn’t pressed the issue at all. He would have been terribly embarrassed. As it was he was a little embarrassed. Not that he didn’t know what went on between two partners, but still, he wasn’t usually camping in the woods with a couple. Or were they a couple? They didn’t act like a couple. Well, not any couple that Bilbo knew about. Maybe Dwarves really were lax about such things. Such a thought seemed incredibly alien but then Bilbo was doing his utmost best to not judge. Hobbit ways would probably seem just as strange to Dwarves, he imagined.

Bilbo didn’t think it terribly fair that he wasn’t allowed a moment’s privacy but the others had been. He shoved that bitterness down as best he could. Maybe the others were just so dense they couldn’t figure why he’d go off _alone_. Surely, if Bilbo could reason out why two of them would go off _not_ alone they could figure out the opposite for him? Maybe he was giving them too much credit.

Of course, no privacy was only part of the problem with traveling with Dwarves. They were a rather rude bunch. Well, he’d known that from the very first night he’d met them hadn’t he? Still, he hadn’t quite expected the rudeness to continue like it had. Oh, while they were walking/riding along the road it was mostly fine. Except that they had a pension for passing the time with rather bawdy songs. Or they would launch into rather descriptive stories that usually ended with one or more people in compromising positions. Bilbo was hesitant to ask if these stories were true events or not.

He was certain they were doing it just to try and make him uncomfortable. Bilbo was set to ignore it but after a while of story after song after story he got fed up with it. So he’d taught them a bawdy song of his own. And proceeded to regret it immediately. They loved it. Especially Bofur who learned it by heart after only a few hours on the road.

Bilbo could only hope that teaching them that song wouldn’t come back to bite them somehow. Then again they didn’t seem to be staying at any inns or towns so perhaps they’d be alright.


End file.
